


Touch

by EssayOfThoughts



Series: Death Eaters Behaving Badly [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Jo is probably going to hate me for this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 10:22:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2425193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EssayOfThoughts/pseuds/EssayOfThoughts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Goodbye happiness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TobermorianSass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TobermorianSass/gifts).



Rodolphus lay next to Rookwood. The sun spilt through the window at just the right angle, the colour of lemon tea, making Augustus’ back, half covered by a sheet, seem almost gilded. He knew that this time, these days after days after days, stretching behind them so long it could have been forever, were limited. There could only be so many more before their Ministry, or the Americans or one of numerous other systems and Agencies (MI7, WFBI, ICW) came knocking at their door, battering it down, and taking them both to Azkaban.

_Maybe it was unwise_ , Rodolphus thought _,_ to stockpile up so many happy memories, given that, when they were thrown back into that hellhole, Dementors or no, they would each get gradually sucked out of their heads. _Was it worse_ , he wondered, _to know you had lost beautiful memories, even if you lasted longer as they faded?_

Beside him Augustus stirred, slightly, before slumping back into sleep and Rodolphus found himself smiling, reaching a hand to trace, so lightly, one fingertip down his lover’s spine. _Years_ , he reminded himself. They had managed years, years without being caught. They had survived a war, survived escaping, survived with each other.

There had been close calls. People almost recognising one of them before being convinced they were wrong, followed by hasty fleeing in the night, finding some safe place to stay and love and live. The strain showed on both of them. Wrinkles now, on Augustus, where he had once had so few and more lines on himself, added to Azkaban’s toll.

_I do not want to go back there_ , he thought, each day. _I could not survive going back there_. His gaze crystallised on Augustus. _Would he survive? Would he be able to live through it?_ He shook his head, cleared out his thoughts, bent down, and pressed a kiss to the man’s bare back, just where the sheet ceased to cover skin.

“You should wake,” he murmured, when Augustus made some indefinable noise. “Today looks set to be a good day.”

Augustus’ head turned to face him, eyes watching Rodolphus closely. “It can be a good day all it wants; it doesn’t get chocolate frogs for it.”

Rodolphus grinned, gently tugged at Augustus’ chin to pull his head up to kiss him. “Good days,” he whispered against Augustus’ lips, “Mean days like this. Days when we don’t get caught. Days we can be happy.”

“And happy we are,” Augustus said, breath ghosting over Rodolphus’ lips, “Or I should hope so after last night.”

They woke languidly, the golden sunlight leaving neither inclined much to move quickly. Gradually clothed, gradually breakfasted, gradually reading newspapers for information on home. Gradual until the knock on the door.

They glanced to each other, hands going to wands, before Rookwood relaxed, “Mrs. Urtica. She said she was making biscuits today, she’s probably out of sugar.” The door repeated itself, louder.

Rodolphus raised a brow, “You’re certain?”

Rookwood nodded, and stood, crossing from chair to door, pulling it open.

And trying to push it shut. The auror got their foot jammed in and they almost yelled, “ _WFBI_ _We’re here to arrest you_ ,” before one of their companions blasted the door off its hinges. Stunners thrown into the room, Augustus and Rodolphus, their faces screwed up in concentration as they strained to Apparate against hastily raised wards, falling, falling flat to the floor, not moving.

“Get them out,” the Auror who spoke said, “Britain and the Boss wants them extradited ASAP and we’ve got nothing on them here. Go.”

They went. Wards dropped, a few muffled pops as each Auror left, two holding Rodolphus and Augustus by the collars.

The room was quiet. The door lay on the floor, splintered. In the kitchen washing up yet to be washed lay in the sink. In the bedroom gilding golden sunlight still spilled in an impossibly beautiful angle over rumpled sheets. The armchair still had the imprint of Augustus on its cushions.

But there was no one home.


End file.
